


The Incubus

by BenAddictViolaBatch



Series: The Incubus [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Demon, Demon Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Johnlock Roulette, John’s Danger Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, POV John Watson, Rope Bondage, Sexual Content, Succubi & Incubi, Suicidal Thoughts, incubus, read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25261561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenAddictViolaBatch/pseuds/BenAddictViolaBatch
Summary: John Watson has been chosen. An incubus is watching, appearing in human form to entice his prey.For L., always.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor
Series: The Incubus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830112
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a tag for dubious consent. Please see the note at the bottom of this chapter for a detailed (spoilery) explanation if needed. 
> 
> The tag for suicidal thoughts applies to chapter 2 only.
> 
> Cover Art for this work: https://benaddictviolabatch.tumblr.com/post/623801752097046528/

The first time it happened, John was on the tube. He swayed slightly in his seat as the carriage rocked, arms draped loosely over his cane.

The man was watching. John didn’t remember him boarding. Surely he would have noticed him. He stood at the other end of the carriage, one arm raised to hold a rail. Jet-black hair fell in thick waves around his angular face, just brushing his shoulders. He was all in black - expensive-looking suit, shirt, long coat - with the exception of the crimson silk scarf artfully draped around his long neck.

His jade green eyes were fixed on John. As John stared back, the man’s full mouth quirked into a lopsided grin.

The lights blinked out as the carriage hit a bump in the track. John instinctively tightened his arms around his cane. When the lights flickered back on less than a second later, the man was gone without a trace.

If John was honest with himself, it had been the first interesting thing to happen to him in months.

Day after mind-numbingly boring day passed, and his thoughts returned again and again to the dark-haired man. Where had he gone? Why had he been looking at John?

John couldn’t help but wonder if he’d imagined the entire encounter, particularly because the man was the most stunningly beautiful person he’d ever seen.

The days blurred together, each more pointless than the last. John was on his way to a therapy session when he felt those green eyes on him again. He looked up just as the man passed the opposite way with a piercing stare and a flash of dark hair and red silk. John spun around in time to catch the flutter of the black coat disappearing into the stream of passers-by.

A man walking behind John crashed right into him before going around him with a muttered curse. John attempted to give chase as best he could considering the state of his damned leg, but there was no longer any sign of the man in black.

Later that same week, John stopped cold as he reached the door of his favourite takeaway spot. He didn’t dare move as he studied the man’s reflection in the glass. He loomed a matter of inches behind John’s shoulder. His close proximity highlighted how tall he was, six feet at a minimum. His bright eyes were locked on John’s in the reflection, sparking with mischief. John was caught suspended in the moment, pinned in place by the heat in the man’s remarkable eyes.

The door burst open, and John jolted backward out of the way as a young woman pushed past him. He fully expected to hit solid flesh and bone as he moved back, but he stumbled into thin air. He turned. Nothing.

_____

At first, John didn’t know he was awake. He’d opened his eyes to find the green-eyed man crouched atop the footboard of his bed. He studied John intently as John gazed back silently for a long moment.

When John realized with a sharp shock that he was _awake_ and _someone was in his bedroom_ , he startled hard and scrambled up against the headboard.

“Apologies,” the man said quietly. “I never have found a way to avoid the initial fright.”

His rich baritone, coloured by an outlandishly posh accent, was a soothing contrast to the intimidating leathery black wings rising from the backs of his shoulders.

John’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his eardrums. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment in the futile hope that he would reopen them to find his world returned to normal.

The raven-haired man was still there. John pointed at him accusingly. “You were on the tube.”

He smiled brightly. “Indeed.”

John gestured at the man’s large wings. “Don’t remember those from the tube.”

He chuckled deeply. “They would tend to draw a bit of unwanted attention.”

John scoffed. “They would tend to get caught in the doors.”

The man let out a full-throated laugh. “What makes you think I need to use the doors?”

He was perched with his bare feet curved over John’s footboard. His bare, _clawed_ feet. He no longer wore his fine black suit. In its place was a ridiculous (yet ridiculously attractive) pair of black leather trousers. One hand was propped on his bent knee, canting his elbow up. His other hand dangled against John’s sheets.

John shifted against the headboard, squaring his shoulders. “What are you? Why are you here?”

He shrugged, his wings flexing. “I’m not so very different from you, but,” he said, watching his fingers toy idly with the sheet, “I feed off human energy.”

John’s stomach went cold. “You’re a _vampire?_ ”

He rolled his eyes extravagantly. “Don’t be daft. I said energy, not blood.”

John clutched at the sheet. “What kind of energy?”

He lifted his bare chest slightly higher, a rakish smile crossing his face. “ _Sexual energy_ ,” he said in a deliberately lowered tone.

Realization washed over John. “You’re an incubus.”

“At your service.”

John yanked the sheet higher, pulling it to his chest as his heart clenched. “Then you’re some kind of... rape demon?”

The incubus’s eyes began to glow. His entire countenance darkened, even as he seemed to absorb all the light in the room. He growled, and his wings gave a beat against the air. “ _I do not rape_ ,” he hissed.

John cowered against the headboard. “Sorry.”

His eyes returned to their usual piercing green. “An unfortunate number of my brethren engage in that sort of vileness. I do not. It is inefficient.”

“ _Inefficient?_ ”

He shuffled his wings slightly, settling them. “We can feed on fear, pain, and shame. Or,” he said, fixing his eyes on John’s, “We can feed on other energies. I find that pleasure is far more satisfying.” He leaned forward. “One night absorbing a human being’s pleasure can sustain me for several weeks.”

“So you just show up in my bedroom and expect me to let you fuck me?”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

John scoffed.

“But it isn’t,” he added with a knowing grin.

John crossed his arms. “And you think you know what I’d like.”

“I _think_ ,” he said, “That during this conversation, your gaze has found my mouth approximately every four seconds before you divert it back to my eyes.” He favoured John with a crooked smile.

John broke eye contact as heat bloomed instantly on his cheeks. A swishing movement caught his eye. Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look.

“Yes, I have a tail,” the incubus said, rolling his eyes again. “We did already establish that I’m a demon.” He whipped it forward for a moment. It was long, black, and pointed.

John was just registering the subtle filigree-like scarlet markings on the spade-shaped tip when the demon swiped it away again.

“Let’s get this bit over with while we’re at it.” He tilted his head down and pushed his thick, wavy hair aside to reveal the horns at the top of his head. “I’ll thank you to keep the ‘horny’ jokes to yourself. I find them tiresome, and I can assure you I’ve already heard them all.” His horns were curled and delicate, ebony with intricate scarlet patterns.

“ _Oh_ ,” John breathed. “They’re _gorgeous_.”

The demon raised his eyes, looking at John through his lashes.

“Are they sensitive?”

His brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“If someone touches them, do you... feel something?”

He was looking at John with utter confusion. “Not particularly.”

“So, it wouldn’t hurt you if I -“ John was already moving forward. His hand was reaching out almost of its own accord.

“No, but it’s considered incredibly rude.” He raised his head and lowered his hands. His thick hair fell into place, and only the tips of his horns were visible.

John dropped his arm. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He tilted his head, noticing that the ebony claws on the demon’s fingers were blunt, in contrast to his feet.

He splayed them out to give John a better look. “Filed down. I use them for pleasure, not pain.” He flexed his fingers suggestively.

A shiver of arousal passed through John’s body.

“As you have certainly already realized, I have been tracking you for some weeks now. I choose my quarry carefully, and I have no doubt that should you accept my offer of a sexual encounter it will benefit us both. Most humans who enjoy males find my form pleasing,” he said, pushing his shoulders back slightly in an obvious (effective) ploy to draw John’s eyes to his lightly muscular chest.

“I’m extremely skilled,” he added, curling his long fingers against the sheets. “I can give you pleasure you’ve never known. I haven’t been rejected in the last six thousand years or so.”

John was determined not to make this too easy for the incubus. “Pleasure I’ve never known, hmm? Might be a problem. I’m a bit of a screamer, you see. The neighbors will think you’re murdering me and we’ll wind up having the police break down the door just when it’s getting good.”

A predatory smile spread across the demon’s sharp-featured face. “They won’t. No sound will escape this room while I occupy it.”

John gaped at him incredulously.

He shrugged. “It’s one of my many gifts.”

“Is that right?”

He inclined his head in affirmation.

John had recovered enough to continue teasing him. “So, what else have you got?”

His shoulders flexed with a little shrug, lifting and dropping his wings. “The usual. Superior strength and dexterity, long life, imperviousness to human disease.” He deliberately dropped his chin to look through his lashes at John. “The ability to hold my breath for extended periods of time.”

John immediately looked away as his face flushed hot again.

The demon let out a low, filthy chuckle. He dropped onto John’s mattress.

John gasped and clutched at the sheet. He watched, spellbound, as the demon crawled forward.

“Enough talk,” he rumbled. The play of the muscles and tendons under his pale skin as he moved was mesmerizing. Had John been capable of coherent thought, that thought might have been that he now knew what it would look like if a marble statue could be brought to life as pure sex.

The exquisitely sculpted creature loomed over John, caging him in with his body. John instinctively tilted his face up, expecting to start with a kiss. The incubus dipped down, nuzzling into John’s neck instead. He inhaled deeply, taking in John’s scent and responding to it with a soft growl.

John’s entire body reacted to him immediately and profoundly. All remaining fear and hesitation disappeared. His arms and legs moved of their own accord, opening to accept the deliciously substantial weight of the demon’s body. The incubus may have been as perfect as if he was carved from marble, but he was as warm and pliable as any man.

John’s hands made their way into his glossy black hair, and found that it was thick and silky-soft. His hips pushed upward instinctively against the heat of the demon’s abdomen. John was already rock-hard. Immediately, he was desperate to get rid of the sheet and the layers of clothing between them.

The demon’s mouth had opened against John’s neck. The heat of his breath and the soft, wet pressure of his tongue sent ripples of desire through John’s entire body.

John was quickly losing any semblance of control in the encounter. Had he really agreed to this? If he didn’t pause this now, he never would. He managed to claw back enough self-control to put his hands on the demon’s shoulders and push him back.

“One more thing first.” The feel of those strong shoulders under his hands was nearly too much. The pale skin was so warm.

The incubus shifted impatiently. “ _What?_ ”

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you need to know?” He twisted out of John’s grip and went back to work on his collarbone.

John took a deep, shuddering breath. He couldn’t help sinking his hands into the silky black hair again. The feel of the demon’s tongue against his skin was dizzying. It took everything he had not to get distracted. “Well, if you’re going to give me pleasure I’ve never known, don’t you think I should be screaming your name? Bit awkward to be screaming, ‘Oh, you, you, you!’ don’t you think?”

The demon pulled back. He looked amused despite himself.

John pushed on. “My name is John Watson.” He flexed his hands in the demon’s hair, stroking his scalp even as he used his grip to keep that small distance between them. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Why am I finding it so difficult to say no to you?” Genuine confusion clouded his lovely green eyes. He gave a little shake of his head as if to clear it. “Fine. It’s Sherlock. Are you happy now?”

John grinned at him. “Ecstatic.”

A wicked light sparked in Sherlock’s eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” He surged forward, capturing John in a searing kiss.

At some level, John knew it was dangerously foolish to let a demon into his bed, no matter how beautiful that demon may be. But when Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, lifting him effortlessly out from under the sheet and pulling him close, John simply couldn’t bring himself to care. When he felt the blunted claws on his back, clutching him possessively to Sherlock’s chest, he was utterly lost in sensation.

So he surrendered completely, allowing Sherlock to kiss him deeply and thoroughly. Sherlock was unexpectedly generous, lavishing John’s mouth with all manner of kisses. He was overwhelming and unpredictable. A sweet press of his lips against John’s in one moment could be followed by a filthy thrust of his tongue in the next.

When he finally laid John back down, John had no sense of how much time might have passed. Through the haze of his arousal he could feel Sherlock gazing down at him, no doubt admiring his handiwork. Then Sherlock was leaning away to open John’s bedside drawer. He pulled John’s box of toys out and tossed the lid onto the floor.

“Oi,” John objected blearily, “That’s private.”

Sherlock had apparently found what he was looking for. He dropped the box, scattering John’s sex toys across the floor. John meant to complain, but when Sherlock turned back toward John with coils of rope in his hands and a predatory look in his eyes, John’s ability to speak abandoned him.

A distant part of John’s brain was questioning the wisdom of allowing a demon to bind him, but he knew he’d already passed the point of no return. By the time John found his voice, Sherlock was kneeling between his legs. He had already stripped John’s t-shirt off and bound one of his wrists to the headboard. He had the palm of one of his graceful hands resting on John’s bad shoulder and was mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. A curious, tingling warmth spread through John’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

Sherlock wrapped a rope around John’s other wrist. “I should think it’s fairly obvious. These are your own ropes, after all.”

“But-“ John shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m the one who does the tying.”

“Not tonight.” Sherlock finished binding John’s wrist and tested the knot.

“But - you said you want to pleasure me, and that’s what I like.”

Sherlock sat back on his heels and looked intently at John. “Oh, believe me, John, I _am_ going to pleasure you. This is what I do. I deduce your desires and I fulfill them.” He gripped John’s thighs with his large hands and leaned forward. “Not your _usual_ desires. Not the desires you want to admit to. Your _true_ desires, right now, in this moment.”

“And you think you know my desires?”

“Better than you do.”

“Mind reader, are you?”

“Don’t be absurd. Observation and deduction. Child’s play.”

“Go on, then. Tell me my desires.”

“You’re sure you can handle it?”

“Try me.”

Sherlock pulled back, eyes sweeping over John’s upper body. He regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “You regret allowing me to bind you to your bed - you shouldn’t, by the way, I know what I’m doing - because right now you’d quite like to grab me by the hair,” he began, illustrating the point by plunging his own hands into it, “Knock me onto my knees, and shove that big, fat cock of yours right down my throat.” He clutched at his hair and arched his torso lasciviously. “Because that would be a rather fantastic way to shut me up, would it not?”

Unfortunately, the only reply John could muster was a terribly undignified noise.

“You’d also quite like to bend me over the nearest flat surface and fuck me until I scream myself hoarse,” he continued. He ignored John’s gasp. “Although the stated motivations behind those two scenarios are somewhat contradictory.” He lowered his arms slowly and tilted his head, the dark waves of his hair falling over the fair skin of his shoulder. He gave a faux-innocent flutter of his eyelashes. “Which is it, John, shut me up or make me scream your name until my voice fails?”

John was completely unmoored.

“But it matters very little, John. Because either way,” he continued, his voice growing rough with lust. “ _I would love it_.”

He leaned in and splayed his hands over John’s chest, stroking him just a bit too aggressively. John gasped at the contact on his bare skin. He shuddered hard.

“Oh, John, the mere thought of it makes me weak at the knees. The next time I touch myself I’ll be thinking of you. Would you like that, John? I’ll close my eyes and put my hands on my body.” He tipped his head back slightly, his eyes fluttering shut, his expression enraptured. “And I’ll imagine it’s you, John. Your hands, your mouth, your thick cock. Oh, John,” he moaned. “I’ll come all over myself with your name on my lips.”

And just as John feared he would lose consciousness from overarousal, Sherlock snapped upright, completely composed.

“But your danger kink has bested the other scenarios tonight,” he continued coolly. “I’ve already bound you and soon I’ll impale my throat on your cock. It’s a rare male who doesn’t enjoy an enthusiastic blow job, but you are particularly appreciative. Add the element of being rendered helpless at the hands of a powerful creature of darkness and we have our winner. You can consider my little foray into your penchant for dirty talk a bonus.” He looked down at John like the cat that got the cream.

John felt like he’d been turned inside out. Sherlock had read him with pinpoint precision and used that information to turn him into a quivering mess of want. He struggled to speak. “You. _Bastard_.”

Sherlock shook his head, casting his eyes upward. “Such an ungrateful lot, you humans,” he muttered. “You’ll be wanking over what I said for months, maybe even ye-“

“ _That was amazing_.”

Sherlock stared down at him, astonishment on his sharply beautiful face. “What was that?”

“ _Extraordinary_.” John managed, still quite dazed.

Sherlock studied him for another long moment before schooling his features and reaching for John’s underpants. He expertly tore one side open at the hip, eliciting a shocked cry from John. He paused again, seeming to savour John’s reaction. A faint smile played at the corners of his decadent mouth. He then tore the other side and threw the underpants somewhere behind him.

“Excellent,” he said as he studied John intently. “Your self image is not exaggerated.” He took hold of John’s cock, giving it a solid stroke down and back up the entire length.

Intense pleasure washed over John. He moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back. To his dismay, Sherlock immediately let go. John whimpered at the loss.

“That is indeed a big, fat cock.” He cupped John’s bollocks, weighing them in his hand.

John let out a strangled whine.

Sherlock let go and gave him an encouraging pat on the hip. “You’ll do nicely.”

He rose up on his knees, dropping his hands to the waistband of his ridiculous leather trousers. He made quick work of the complicated-looking knot at the top of the lacing and perfunctorily loosened the laces before dropping back down.

“I want to see it.”

“See what?” Sherlock teased. He settled his body against John’s, heavy and hot. He nuzzled into John’s neck and inhaled deeply. He hummed in appreciation as he took in John’s scent.

John struggled to focus. The skin-to-skin contact was intoxicating. He couldn’t help pressing his hips upward, rubbing his aching cock against Sherlock’s warm belly. He bit back a moan. “ _You know what!_ ” he panted, “Your cock. Assuming you have one.”

“Why wouldn’t I have one?” When he spoke, John could feel the vibrations in his own chest.

“How do I know?” John shot back testily, “You’re not human. Now, if you’ve got a cock, show it to me!”

Sherlock pulled back and sat up on his heels between John’s legs, knees spread. John lurched forward against his restraints in an instinctive attempt to follow. The loss of contact was unbearable.

Sherlock looked down at him, a wolfish smile pulling at the corners of his gorgeous mouth. “I have a cock, John.” He moved one of his big, pale hands onto the bulge at his groin and hissed in pleasure. “Do you want me to take it out?”

John was going light-headed. “You know I do.”

“Do you want to touch me, John?”

He threw himself toward Sherlock, only to be yanked back into place by the restraints.

Sherlock let out a low, dirty chuckle. He tipped his head back and moved both ebony-tipped hands up to his collarbone. He began caress his own body devastatingly slowly, starting with his long, elegant neck. His leathery wings unfurled, their dark peaks and curves framing his alabaster body. As he moved down to his pectorals, he brought his head back down to make eye contact with John. His eyes burned with desire. John’s mouth dropped open as he strained against the ropes. An agonized noise escaped him.

Sherlock looked immensely pleased with himself as he continued to torment John by stroking his own body. He tweaked each nipple in turn before moving on to his abdomen. Finally he reached the waistband of his ridiculous leather trousers. He made a show of further loosening the lacing at the front.

John was shuddering with anticipation and desire. At long last, Sherlock plunged one hand into his trousers. He moaned extravagantly, tipping his head black to expose his delicate throat. He then lowered his head and looked deeply into John’s eyes before dropping his gaze to his own groin, prompting John to also look where Sherlock’s hand disappeared into his trousers.

Sherlock pulled out his cock, opening his hand to display it, and John groaned loudly at the sight of it. It was well formed, generously sized, and dusky pink. And it was gloriously hard. John pulled violently at his restraints again, burning with an all-consuming need to touch Sherlock.

Sherlock reached behind himself and undid a button at the back of his trousers. John thought dimly that it must allow for his tail. At any rate, Sherlock was able to push his trousers down his hips, exposing his bollocks as well. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it a few times, sighing in pleasure. John moaned desperately, his own neglected cock throbbing.

Sherlock moved forward to reclaim him. John spoke quickly. “Take them off.” Sherlock froze, millimetres away from contact. John’s cock objected strongly to the interruption.

“Pardon?”

“Your trousers. Take them all the way off.”

Sherlock pulled back enough to focus on John’s face. “Why does it matter?”

“I want to see all of you.” John couldn’t bear to have anything between them any longer. Not even a pair of ridiculous leather trousers. “Please, Sherlock.”

Sherlock slid backward off the side of the bed. He took his trousers off, revealing his graceful legs and leaving himself fully nude. Confusion clouded his sharp features. “Why is it so difficult to refuse your requests?” he muttered.

He tossed the trousers over a chair and was back on the bed caging John in so quickly John didn’t even see him move. John startled hard, gasping in shock.

Sherlock took John’s face in his hands and claimed his mouth with a heart-stoppingly passionate kiss.

John’s arms strained against his bonds as his heart ached with the need to wrap them around the astonishing creature in his lap and hold him closer. Sherlock moved his hands onto John’s shoulders. He traced his way down John’s arms and over the ropes to interlock their fingers. John thought his heart would crack open. He held on to Sherlock’s hands for all he was worth, and Sherlock kissed him as though the world was ending.

All too soon, Sherlock broke their link, returning his hands to their work. He dipped away from John’s mouth to lavish kisses, licks, and caresses over his neck and collarbone. He worked his way lower, lower, covering John’s body with his attentions. John’s head lolled back, his eyes falling closed as he gasped for breath.

As he reached John’s abdomen, Sherlock pushed his knees back and angled his body down. As Sherlock’s hips rose upward, John lifted his head and let his eyes drift along Sherlock’s back from his strong shoulders to the backs of his powerful wings, now folded. Just at the base of Sherlock’s tail, John caught sight of the most spectacular arse he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d seen a number of rather fine arses in his day, and his own had inspired its share of compliments, but Sherlock’s was otherworldly.

John let out a loud moan of appreciation. “Your arse must be the eighth wonder of the natural world.”

Sherlock lifted his head enough to make eye contact. “Fourth wonder of the underworld.” He wiped his thumb over his full, pink lower lip. “If you want to be precise.”

John shook his head in disbelief. “What must the first three be, then?” he marveled.

Sherlock dropped his head against John’s stomach and laughed.

John squirmed at the sensation on his overstimulated skin. He nudged Sherlock with his knee. “Give us a better look at it? I can’t quite see all of it from this angle.”

Sherlock sat back, offended. “You don’t seriously expect me to present myself like a show dog, do you, John?”

“Please let me see,” he begged. “You’re so beautiful... Please, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, but he pushed off the side of the bed to stand next to it. He turned his back, and his arse was even more glorious than it had looked from the other angle. Sherlock put a hand on one hip and looked back over his shoulder, pushing his large, folded wings off center. “How’s that, then?”

John was speechless. His mouth had dropped open and he was dizzy with arousal. He tried to respond, but all that came out was, “Hnnnngh.”

In the blink of an eye Sherlock was on top of him again. He seized a handful of John’s hair. John yelped in pain and shock.

“I am done fucking around with you, John,” he snarled. “I let you appeal to my vanity, and for that I blame myself. I think we have both quite forgotten why I’m here.” He pulled harder at John’s hair, and John hissed in pain. Sherlock leaned in, right next to John’s ear. His tone was low and dangerous. “I’m going to take what I want now.”

He released John’s hair with a shove and pushed back, dropping his hands onto John’s thighs, just above the knee. His claws dug in hard, the filed-down tips the only thing keeping them from puncturing the skin. John gasped.

“It would behove you not to try my patience further. While my stated intention is to take that big, fat cock of yours down my throat and give you the greatest pleasure you have ever known, do not for _one second_ forget what I am.”

He narrowed his piercing green eyes and leaned down toward John’s cock.

“Should the mood strike me, I could just as easily _bite it off_ without a second thought.”

A cold wave of primal terror crashed over John’s entire body and settled in his groin.

The demon smiled slowly, deliberately revealing a set of inhumanly fearsome teeth.

John yanked against the ropes as another wash of primordial fear rushed through him and pulsed into his cock. He couldn’t move his legs. _He couldn’t move his legs!_ Sherlock’s grip on them was stronger than steel. Sherlock’s teeth hadn’t been that monstrous before. He was sure of it. Almost. It was obviously a trick, meant to scare him. Wasn’t it?

A deep, rumbling chuckle from Sherlock. “I haven’t seen a danger kink as strong as yours in centuries.” He snapped his lethal-looking teeth at John and watched with satisfaction as John shuddered. “I’ll admit it’s fun to play with.” He released one of his iron grips on John’s thighs.

John had gone too bewildered and panicked to move. It _had_ to be a trick. An illusion. Was _any of this_ real? He watched in petrified fascination as one of the demon’s large, elegant hands rose between them.

Sherlock took his time turning his lovely hand over and lowering it near John’s lap. He trailed the back of one ebony claw down the length of John’s straining cock, earning himself a strangled cry. He angled his head, admiring the effect he’d had on it. “A human male’s greatest fear. And you’re harder than ever.”

John’s cock throbbed under the demon’s scrutiny, harder than John had thought was even possible. His head fell back, eyes falling closed as his vision began to go fuzzy around the edges.

“No!” Sherlock said sharply.

John managed to jerk his head back up.

“You are going to watch. You will not take your eyes off me.” The intensity in his eyes gained a new dimension. “ _Am I understood?_ ”

“Yes,” John answered tremulously.

Sherlock shifted his position, locking his ankles over John’s and grasping one hipbone. Without breaking eye contact, he bent lower and took hold of the base of John’s cock. John gasped deeply. Sherlock flashed his deadly teeth once more before putting his pink tongue out to deliver a heavy lick to the head.

John shuddered and moaned loudly, already struggling with Sherlock’s command to maintain eye contact. Sherlock continued to lick over the entire crown of John’s cock. He then plunged down without any further warning, taking John’s entire length in at once.

John cried out in anguished ecstasy. His entire body convulsed violently. Sherlock would surely have been thrown off had he not been prepared, with his hands pinning John’s hips and his ankles locked over John’s.

Sherlock showed no mercy, working John hard. He moved one hand to John’s bollocks, holding them with precisely the right amount of pressure. His other hand clutched John’s thigh.

John had been hard enough to bend steel for what seemed like hours. He was desperate to come, but at the same time he never wanted this to end. He’d had partners that were skilled at this. _Very_ skilled. But Sherlock was on another level entirely.

John had never felt such intense pleasure. It spiralled out endlessly. Animalistic moans he had never heard himself (or anyone else) make escaped him uncontrollably. Sherlock looked up at him from under his lashes. His eyes had begun to glow brightly. John gazed back in wonder. Then something else occurred to him. Sherlock’s eyes sparked with amusement when he saw John realize that Sherlock had not yet come up for air.

John had expected to finish embarrassingly quickly, but Sherlock was incredibly skilled at pulling him back from the edge of climax before he could fall. He thought distantly that it must be another of Sherlock’s many gifts.

John’s head lolled against his shoulder as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. A firm pinch to his thigh jolted him back upright. Sherlock flicked his tail and stared intently up at John. The message was clear: _Eyes on me_.

As he absorbed John’s pleasure, it wasn’t just his eyes that were glowing. His entire body was subtly giving off light. His pale skin was like moonlight falling on water. Even his dark wings were glimmering like starlight. John had never imagined that anything could be so beautiful.

John watched Sherlock’s expression grow more and more aroused as he took John’s pleasure. His hips began to roll, in time with his other movements. He clutched harder and harder at John’s leg. Just when John thought his claws would surely break the skin, filed down or not, he raked his hand down John’s thigh and shoved it between his own legs.

John thought this might be the moment that would actually kill him.

The idea that this stunning creature was willing to suck his cock was unbelievable already, but to think that he was getting off on it was too much. John saw the pleasure bloom on Sherlock’s face the moment his hand reached its destination.

He wondered if knowing that he was involved in bringing this gorgeous being that pleasure would stop his heart. He didn’t think he would mind if it did.

John wished desperately to be able to see what Sherlock was doing between his legs. He knew it was unimaginably greedy of him to want more in the middle of the most profoundly pleasurable experience of his life, but he was rapidly learning that when it came to Sherlock he would always want more. He would give anything to see Sherlock wrap those long graceful fingers around that big rosy-tipped cock while he took John’s down his throat.

John was utterly lost. He had no concept of how much time passed.

All at once, Sherlock took the arm he’d been using to touch himself and threw it across John’s hips. He was doing something new with his tongue, and oh, _oh_ , that was it.

John was in freefall. He was coming harder than he had ever come in his life. His entire body thrashed uncontrollably against Sherlock’s grip before tensing up, locked in ecstasy.

The glow from Sherlock’s body surged as John’s pleasure reached its peak. John thought for a fleeting moment that he felt Sherlock trembling with it, but in the grip of his climax he couldn’t know what was real.

When he was finally released, he dropped, as limp as a rag doll. Sherlock disengaged, and John was immediately desperate to be back in physical contact with him. He couldn’t lose him so soon. He struggled to raise his head.

Sherlock had sat up on his heels toward the end of John’s bed, knees spread. His glowing green eyes were fixed on John. He was panting with arousal, clearly near his own peak. Now that he’d resumed breathing, his chest heaved with deep, heavy breaths.

John, fully spent and still bound to the headboard, could do nothing but watch.

Sherlock wrapped one of his graceful ebony-clawed hands around his cock, groaning in relief. His wings opened like a dark lily, giving off their soft night-sky shimmer. He stroked himself steadily and lowered his other hand to cup his bollocks as John watched the gloriously erotic display in silent wonder.

After a few minutes, he moved the hand up from his bollocks, stroking his moonlit body indulgently. He’d begun making little noises as he approached orgasm. He moved his flattened hand over his pectorals before abruptly pinching one of his nipples, hard. He cried out, threw his head back, and began to come all over the sheets between him and John.

The light still emanating from his beautiful body surged again as his pleasure overtook him. “Oh!” he cried, “Oh, J-“ He doubled over, the glossy waves of his hair falling forward to obscure his face.

When he’d finished, he dropped his hands onto the bed to support himself, taking a moment to recover. He breathed heavily, his wings moving slightly in sympathy with his chest. With his head down, his sublimely beautiful curlicued horns were visible.

When he lifted his head and shook his hair back from his face, his expression was inscrutable. He stood and approached John, releasing his wrists with a touch of his hand.

The words slipped out unbidden and without permission. Three words, in the softest whisper.

“Please don’t leave.”

John hadn’t meant to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel ashamed. Not now. Not after everything that had passed between them.

Sherlock went completely still. He stood there for a long moment, his otherworldly face still carefully composed to reveal nothing.

He then took hold of John’s ankles and pulled him down the bed so that he lay flat.

He wrapped his hands around John’s wrists, and John hissed in pain. Although the ropes were of good quality and the bonds had been expertly tied, John’s repeated yanking against them had taken a toll.

“Hold still.”

John instinctively obeyed, out of exhaustion if for no other reason. Sherlock muttered an incantation, and tingling warmth spread through both of John’s wrists. John gasped, but managed to stay still. When Sherlock released him, his skin was flushed but intact.

“ _How?_ ”

“I have some mild ability in healing.” He reached toward John’s shoulder. “I can’t repair the bullet wound,” he hastened to add when he saw John’s eyes widen, “And this won’t change that rather fascinating scar.”

“Fascinating?”

He bracketed John’s shoulder with both hands, front and back. “This will only repair any damage you did tonight.” He repeated the incantation.

Something dawned on John. “You did this to my shoulder before, when you tied me.”

A smug smile crossed Sherlock’s face. “I thought a bit of prevention would do you good when I predicted I’d have you literally throwing yourself at me, bindings notwithstanding.”

“Arrogant bastard.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps, but was what I said inaccurate?”

He walked out of view, leaving John utterly wrung out. John heard him drop heavily into the chair next to the wardrobe, still breathing audibly.

After several minutes had passed, John managed to find the strength to prop himself up on one elbow. Sherlock stood across the room, facing away. His tail moved in slow, satisfied curls as he laced up his ridiculous leather trousers.

“So.”

Sherlock didn’t acknowledge him.

John kept going anyway. “Once you’ve visited a human, do you ever...”

Sherlock had finished dressing and gone still.

“Make a return visit?”

Sherlock turned. His eyes still glowed with the energy he’d absorbed. “On occasion.” He tilted his head. “Exceedingly _rare_ occasion.”

John mustered every bit of confidence he had. “Make this one of those occasions.”

“Why should I?”

John sat up fully. “Because I am good at this. Very good. I’ll admit you bowled me over tonight. Give me a chance to get my feet back under me and show you what I can do.”

Sherlock scrunched up his face. “Every human thinks they’re good at this, particularly the males. The vast majority of them are wrong.” He stepped toward John. “ _Particularly the males_ ,” he sneered.

John stood and approached him. “You underestimate me.” He moved into Sherlock’s space. “And there’s another reason you should return, bright eyes.”

Sherlock held his ground. “Oh?” He looked amused. “What’s that, then?”

“There’s something here.” John gestured in the narrow space between their chests. “I know you feel it too.”

“Sentiment?” Sherlock’s gaze turned cold. “You don’t know me.”

“But I’d like to.” John rested his hand over Sherlock’s heart. His skin was still flushed and blood-hot. John looked up into his glowing green eyes.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably but didn’t look away. His voice was flat. “Whatever you think you feel, it isn’t real. Your orgasm releases chemicals in your brain to discourage you from immediately abandoning a mate you may have impregnated. It means nothing.”

“I know that, Sherlock, I’m a doctor! That’s not what this is. Something else is at work here.” He could feel Sherlock’s heart beating heavily under his palm. “When you held my hands, I-“

He shoved John’s hand away roughly. “Your danger kink is even worse than I realized,” he snarled. “A _demon_ shows up in your bedroom and you ask him to be your _boyfriend!_ ”

John clenched his fists. “ _I didn’t -_ ” he began, but stopped short. It was all going wrong. Sherlock was shutting him out. He pushed his anger down.

Sherlock was watching him, confusion and curiosity in those remarkable green eyes as John weighed out what could be their last conversation.

After a long moment, John decided that words were overrated. He shoved both hands into Sherlock’s hair and pulled him down into a kiss. It was John’s last chance to convince Sherlock to return to him - and perhaps it was their last kiss. So John put everything he had into it. He balanced tenderness with passion and reverence with heat. He drew Sherlock in and kept him suspended in a delicious freefall, pulling back just a moment too soon to leave Sherlock aching for more. He brushed two final feather-light kisses against Sherlock’s beautiful mouth.

As John pulled away, Sherlock swayed toward him and John felt a surge of triumph. _I’ve got him_ , he thought. _It may be only for this one small, sweet moment, but in this moment Sherlock is mine_.

John turned his back and returned to his bed. He could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him as he slipped beneath the sheet and settled in.

“Goodbye, John.”

“Until next time, Sherlock.”

John heard a soft crack and turned to find nothing but a light fall of ash in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about clothing: Thanks/blame for the black leather trousers goes to the costume designer for the black swan in Matthew Bourne’s adaptation of Swan Lake.
> 
> A note about protection: As an incubus, Sherlock is not susceptible to human disease. He doesn’t need protection, but humans do. Please be safe!
> 
> A note about consent to be read before this chapter as needed: Sherlock is working with some outdated notions about consent here. He is grievously offended when John mistakes him for a rapist. However, he does not wait for the explicit and enthusiastic consent that is featured in my other works. He instead relies on physical cues and signs of arousal in his target. Additionally, as a demon, he is threatening and frightening at times. This is why I have used the dubious consent tag. If this will disturb you, I invite you to try one of my other works which feature explicit and enthusiastic consent. Thank you for reading! ❤️


	2. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains references to suicidal thoughts. Please skip it if this will adversely affect you.

John bolted upright, jolted awake by the thud of something heavy dropping onto the footboard of his bed.

He scrambled up against the headboard, knocking the back of his skull against it in the process. 

That something heavy was glowering at him, claws digging into the footboard and wings beating against the air in frustration. 

“ _Fucking hell!_ ” John shouted. “Didn’t anyone ever warn you against startling a sleeping soldier, you  _absolute arse?”_ Hecradled his sore head and tried to calm his racing heart. 

“What have you done to me?” the incubus growled, his tail swishing back and forth wildly. “What are you? Sorcerer? Brujo? Bokor?” He leapt forward onto the mattress, looming over John. “Answer me, you fiend!” 

John’s bedside lamp fell victim to the aggressive beating of Sherlock’s wings, smashing into pieces as it hit the floor. 

“Watch it!” John hissed. His hands had automatically come up to shield himself from the demon’s wrath. “What in hell are you on about?”

Sherlock grabbed a double handful of John’s t-shirt and gave him a shake. “What. Have. You. Done!” he snarled, eyes glowing bright green with rage. 

“Nothing!” John yelped. “What’s happened?”

Sherlock shoved John into the mattress and leapt off the bed to pace the bedroom floor rapidly. He raked his hands through his glossy hair, yanking at it in agitation. “You’ve done something to me.” He rounded on John again. “Tell me!” He approached quickly, pointing an accusing, blunted claw right in John’s face. “And don’t give me any bullshit about it being that kissing trick! You think that was the first time I’d encountered a good kisser? The first time I’d been with someone who knows how to tease?” He whirled away to stalk across the room again, his tail nearly striking John as it whipped in agitation. “You think I don’t know how to play that game, John? I fucking  _INVENTED THAT SHIT!”_

He grabbed the top of John’s wardrobe with one hand and flipped the entire thing onto the floor with a massive crash. Before John realized what he was doing he was already in the air. He landed squarely on Sherlock’s back between his wings and immediately had his arms locked around him, over one shoulder and under the other. He wrapped his legs around his lithe waist.

The demon went deadly still. His voice was quiet and cold. “ _Get off me_.”

“Not until you stop smashing my things and tell me what your problem is.”

For a long moment neither of them moved. 

Finally, Sherlock sighed tetchily. “Fine, I’ll talk. Now, get. Off. Me.”

John unwrapped his legs and slid to the floor. Sherlock flexed his shoulders and his wings. 

“So,” John prompted, “What seems to be the problem?”

Sherlock whirled around to face him. “You.” He poked John in the chest. “You’ve done something to me. All the time, you’re in my head. John this, John that.” He began pacing, pushing John backward in slow circles. “Constantly, I’m wanting to tell you something or ask you something or show you something.” He gestured wildly. “Every thought I have somehow turns into you! I spend hour after hour daydreaming about talking to you and kissing you and pleasuring you!  _Why_ _?_ ”

John worked hard to keep the grin off his face. “Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say... maybe you like me.”

“ _Like _ you?” he snarled, “Do you have any idea how utterly preposterous that is?” He stopped pacing, seeming to grow even taller as his expression became dangerous. “I am a predator, John.” He was absorbing all the light in the room. “You are my prey. Are you really so naive?”

John was fighting to control his fear. Sherlock was truly terrifying like this. It was exhilarating. John fell back on his anger. “You dropped onto my bed with no warning and started shouting questions and breaking my things!Now you don’t like my answers, so you’re trying to scare me?”

Sherlock was completely still, his voice cold as ice. “If I try to scare you, John Watson, you will know it.”

John squared up, doing his best to look as tough as possible while dressed in a t-shirt and underpants. “If you want answers to your questions, you will treat me with respect.”

“I do not take orders from insignificant humans.”

“If I’m so insignificant, why are you here?”

The demon made a dismissive noise and rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

“While you are in my home you will treat me as an equal and you will not destroy my things.”

“You are not fool enough to think you are my equal. And I will destroy whatever I wish.”

He scanned the room for something satisfying to smash. A glint came into his eyes as they landed on the iPhone on John’s bedside table. 

John took advantage of the momentary distraction to launch himself at Sherlock, tackling him and bringing them both down onto John’s bed. He was rather pleased with the result, which was Sherlock on his back and John on top of him, straddling his hips and holding a generous handful of his hair. 

Sherlock growled deeply, baring his sharp-looking teeth. Sharper than a human’s, but clearly not the terrifying set of teeth he’d shown John to manipulate his danger kink the last time he’d visited. 

“I knew it,” he murmured to himself. He then addressed the demon. “Growl all you want,” he said in full voice, firming up his grip on Sherlock’s hair. “In fact, I kind of like it.”He bent down and nuzzled into Sherlock’s neck, taking advantage of the opportunity to breathe in his intoxicating scent. 

Sherlock twitched in annoyance. “You do realize I could have just ripped your head off ten minutes ago while you slept.”

“And yet you didn’t.” He pulled back to look at Sherlock. “You also aren’t fighting back.”

“I find myself reluctant to hurt you,” he said with a frown. 

“Oh, Sherlock,” John teased, “You say such sweet things.” He ground his hips down and was rewarded with a hiss and an immediate response from Sherlock’s cock. 

Sherlock glared up at him. 

“So, those things you said to torment me have come true.”

“ _What?_ ”

John grinned lasciviously. “Sounds to me like you’ve been thinking of me when you touch yourself. My mouth, my hands, my thick cock.” He leaned close again, dropping his voice to a rough whisper. “You’ve come all over yourself with my name on your lips, just as you said you would.”

Sherlock growled again. “Insolent human!”

John pressed his advantage. “That’s not a denial.” He tilted his hips to shift the pressure on Sherlock’s cock and was gratified to feel him grow harder. “Don’t be shy,” he continued, “It’s been the same for me.”

He watched as the fire of lust began to overtake the glow of anger in Sherlock’s eyes.

“You’ve got me so hot, Sherlock.  _All the time_. The thought of you has me touching myself two or even three times a day. Just the thought of your lips, your eyes, your gorgeous body. Your voice, crying out your pleasure. The way you literally glow with passion. Your spectacular arse. Your lovely cock.” 

He still gripped Sherlock’s hair tightly. He brought his other hand up and let his fingertips drift over Sherlock’s cheek. The tip of his thumb came to rest gently on his lush lower lip. Sherlock had gone completely still. John angled his head and continued. “Oh, Sherlock, there are so many things I want to do to you, if only you’ll give me the chance. And so many things I want you to do to me. I’ve imagined them all, Sherlock. Everywhere I am, I imagine you with me. On me. Under me. I took a shower tonight before bed, and you were right there with me. I imagined dropping to my knees and taking you right down my throat.” 

He ground his hips down, satisfied to feel that Sherlock had gone fully hard underneath him. “Oh,  _Sherlock_. Just the sound of your name makes me  _so hard_.” He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. “ _Sherlock,”_ he moaned. He tilted his body forward to rub his rock-hard cock against Sherlock’s. “Do you feel how hard you make me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s eyes rolled upward as he groaned a singled syllable. “ _Fuck_.”

John chuckled quietly, allowing himself to gloat a bit at the effect he’d had on the incubus. 

Then Sherlock was staring up at him, deadly serious. His look was so piercing that John instinctively drew back, releasing Sherlock’s hair. 

“A bit of advice, John. Don’t forget who  _and what_ you’re dealing with. And don’t start  _that_ game unless you wish to be utterly destroyed.”

“Maybe I do.”

Sherlock’s look softened. There was a hint of sorrow behind his remarkable eyes. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It was a joke!”

Sherlock’s expression didn’t change. “You play it as a joke, but it isn’t. I’ve smelt it on you from the start.”

John felt stripped bare. He scrambled off of Sherlock, backing against the wall and curling in on himself. 

Sherlock sat up. “John.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just skip the bit where you say all that bollocks about understanding and offering to discuss my feelings.”

“I assure you I plan to say nothing of the sort.”

“No?”

“No.” 

John hazarded a peek at him, bracing himself for the sting of seeing pity in those remarkable eyes. Sherlock was studying him. His lovely green eyes displayed interest, intelligence, and a remaining sheen of both anger and lust. Not a shred of pity to be found. 

“I suppose that makes sense. You’re not here to talk about my feelings. You’re here to talk about yours.”

Sherlock snorted. “I don’t have  _feelings!_ ”

“What’s left of my wardrobe disagrees. You’re having feelings for me. You may as well open up and talk to me.”

“Why would I open my heart to a creature with the lifespan of a mayfly?” he sneered. 

“ _Mayfly?_ Sure, I could die tomorrow, but I could also have fifty, sixty, maybe even seventy years left!”

He stood, leaning in so close they were nearly nose to nose. “ _A mayfly_ ,” he reiterated through gritted teeth. 

“You’re telling me you’ve never gotten close to a human? Never in all these centuries?”

Sherlock went silent. 

“You have, then.”

He pulled up to his full height and stared John down for a long moment before answering. “Once.”

John spoke gently. “What happened?”

“What do you  _think_ happened?” Sherlock snarled. “He got old, he got sick, and he  _died!_ “

“Sit down.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Sit down and tell me about him.”

“Don’t make me regret not ripping your head off.”

“Just sit down, will you?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, but he flopped down in John’s chair. John was grateful for the chair’s simple armless design, which allowed for Sherlock’s wings. 

“Thank you.” John sat across from him on the bed. “What was his name?”

Sherlock glowered at him. “What is the point of this?”

“Look.” John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I realize it’s rather hypocritical of me to press the issue when I wasn’t ready to -“ 

He paused, squeezing his hands together and looking up at the ceiling for a moment. 

“When I wasn’t ready to talk about my past. But the thing is, I think that part of your life is significantly influencing your reaction to what’s happening between us.”

“Nothing is happening between us.”

John simply cocked his head, staring straight into Sherlock’s eyes. 

Sherlock crossed his arms. 

They stared at each other in stony silence for a long moment. 

Finally, Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed deeply in and out. When he reopened his eyes, their residual glow was fading as they returned to their normal lovely shade of jade green. He broke the silence. 

“Victor.”

John inclined his head in thanks. He waited for Sherlock to continue. 

“It was twenty-five hundred years ago. He first caught my eye for the shallowest of reasons: his devastating beauty. Never before or since have I seen a more gorgeous man, but that alone wouldn’t have held me more than a night.”

“Why did you return to him, then?”

A wistful smile played over his mouth. “He tricked me. Not an easy feat, I assure you. I returned to confront him, and wound up in his bed again.

“I never stood a chance. I was utterly fascinated by him. He seemed to understand me so well, like we’d known each other our whole lives. And he treated me with such tenderness, right from the start. 

“I fed from him exclusively for decades. I didn’t want anyone else. One night he said to me, ‘This is probably an incredibly foolish thing to ask you, but how can you still want me?’ I asked him what in the world he could possibly mean.He explained, ‘You are still as beautiful as the day I met you, but my hair thins and my skin sags and my belly sticks out.’ I told him he was indeed incredibly foolish because when I looked at him I did not see hair or skin or a belly. I simply saw Victor, and I would always want my Victor.”

John’s heart swelled uncomfortably. “And what did Victor say?”

“Nothing. He cried all over me. He was really rather silly at times.”

John couldn’t help chuckling. 

“As he aged, his libido waned as it commonly does for humans. I was more than satisfied to simply hold him while he slept most nights. All I wanted was to be with him. And on the occasions when he wanted more, I could still make him come seeing stars. That was plenty to sustain me.

“Eventually he grew forgetful. At first it was little things. He would play it off, or pretend it was a joke. Over time it became clear that something terrible was happening to his mind.”

He paused to compose himself. 

“I understood he would experience deterioration of his physical form. I expected it. I was prepared for it. What I wasn’t prepared for was the deterioration of his mind.

“He had always been a highly intelligent man, and I was watching him lose the ability to complete simple tasks. He could no longer remember my name, but I - I made sure he had what he needed.”

He clutched hard at his own knees and took another moment, head lowered. John waited. 

“Then the day came when he didn’t know me at all. My -” he gestured vaguely at his own body. “My natural form terrified him.”

John thought his heart would crack in two. He reached out. “Oh, Sher-”

Sherlock’s hand shot out in warning. He continued speaking without making eye contact. “I cloaked my form to appear human so I could continue to visit and care for him, but I had become quite weak by then.

“I hadn’t fed in quite a long time. When he was no longer fully himself, it didn’t feel right to - to touch him in that way, and I had no desire to feed from anyone else. My brother had became concerned for my welfare and tried to force me to feed, but he was not successful.” He smiled ruefully. 

“Not until I became too weak to cloak my true form. I genuinely didn’t care if I starved to death, but I couldn’t let it happen while Victor still needed me. So I allowed my brother to send a professional to feed me. It was... difficult. 

“But it allowed me to stay with Victor. I held him every night while he slept, until one night, lying in my arms, he breathed his last. I held him until dawn and buried his body under our favourite fig tree. Then I laid down next to him and resolved to stay there until I, too, was dead.”

He went still, his head down, for a long moment. 

At last, John ventured gently, “How long were you there?”

He was still for a while longer before he shrugged slightly. “I lost track. A few months, I suppose.”

He sat back in the chair. His eyes were red-rimmed. “My brother had come to me several times, pleading with me to feed and yammering on about what Victor would have wanted, as if  _he_ would know.

“Eventually, he came back with a group of brutes to kidnap me and force me to feed. I was too broken to fight them off. Having failed at dying, I destroyed all emotion inside myself. I made a vow never to love again.”

He went silent and looked hollowly at John. 

John sat forward. “Can I ask a question?”

Sherlock inclined his head. 

“Victor’s soul. Where did he go?”

Sherlock broke eye contact. “He was destined for a much more worthy place than where I dwell.”

“And - did you know that before he - did you know before?”

“From the moment we met.”

John was speechless. He slid off the bed, intending to offer some kind of comfort, but Sherlock held a hand up to block him. “I don’t want your sympathy. The only reason I told you about Victor was to make you understand why I must never come here again.”

“That’s not what I took from that story at all.”

Sherlock looked up at him, anger and confusion on his face. “Did you not hear me when I said I nearly died?  _Twice?_ ”

“What I heard was that your years with Victor were among the most meaningful years of your life.”

“And then I lost him. Twenty-five hundred years, John!” He swiped angrily at his face and held his tear-stained hand out toward John. “Twenty-five hundred years and it still hurts!”

“Twenty-five hundred years and he’s still in your heart,” John said quietly, “Even after you deliberately tried to destroy that part of you.”

“I won’t survive it again,” he said, almost to himself. He looked up at John. “The only logical response I can have to you is to cut off all communication at once.”

“Do you wish you’d abandoned Victor immediately after you’d met him?”

He leapt from the chair and was instantly centimetres from John’s face. His wings opened so quickly they made a sound like a sail snapping in the wind. The fire in his eyes was terrifying. “You have no right to speak to me that way!”

“Just listen for a minute.”

“ _How could you ask me to go through that again?_ ”  The anguish in his voice was unbearable. 

“You won’t have to.”

He growled loudly, teeth bared. He made a furious sweeping motion with his arm and he was gone. 

“ _Bastard!_ ” John screamed at nothing. 

He paced the small space next to the bed furiously, muttering aloud and gesturing at no one. 

“Thinks he can just zap himself away without even giving me a chance. Won’t listen to anyone but himself. Because he knows better. He knows everything! Why should he give me a chance? It’s not like I could know something he doesn’t. Not like I might -”

Sherlock burst out of thin air directly in from of him. “What was that supposed to mean?”

“ _Bloody fucking hell!_ ” John shouted. 

“What did you mean?”

“You can’t just pop in and out of here whenever you please!”

“John,  _what did you mean?“_

“I have a door, you know! Have you ever heard of knocking, you great winged twat?”

Sherlock seized him by the shoulders. “ _John!”_

John went quiet, but he was still fuming. 

Sherlock leaned in close, his gaze intense. “What did you mean, I won’t have to?”

He sighed heavily. “Sit down so we can talk properly.”

“ _Just tell me!_ “

John grabbed him by the hair and knocked his feet out from under him so he fell in a controlled drop into the chair behind him.

John was immediately concerned he’d gone too far, but then he looked at Sherlock’s face. Sherlock’s eyes had gone wide and his mouth had fallen open, displaying both shock and arousal. His breathing had quickened, and he looked to John for direction.  _Oh_ , John thought.  _I can work with this_. 

He released Sherlock’s hair and sat on the bed facing him. “You were separated from Victor when he died.”

Sherlock’s expression hardened. “We’ve covered that already.”

John continued, “Victor was a good man? Kind, generous, honest?”

“The best man I’ve ever known,” he answered through clenched teeth. “Get to the point!”

“His soul moved on because he was a good man. I am not a good man.”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, I watched you for weeks. You’re out of work because of the injury, but you’re a doctor. Maybe you did some things during the war, but -”

“No, Sherlock,” John interrupted. “I was a covert operative. I’m trained as a doctor, yes, but I was an MI6 agent and an assassin.”

Sherlock had fallen into stunned silence. 

“You caught me at a low point. My injury took me out of action, and I tried to make an average life for myself. It wasn’t working, but you already know that.” He smiled wanly. 

“You woke me up, Sherlock. My encounter with you reminded me that my need for danger isn’t just a kink. It’s who I am.” He got up and opened his desk drawer. 

“I’ve made contact with a shadow organization in need of an mercenary.” He tossed a manila envelope to Sherlock. “Have a look.”

Sherlock stared at John for another moment before shaking the contents of the envelope onto his lap: false passport, dossier on the target, cash. 

“I’m due in Budapest on Friday.”

Sherlock quietly returned the items to John and watched him shut them in the drawer. 

John sat back down on the bed. “I’m not a good man, Sherlock. Help me negotiate a deal so we won’t be separated when I die.”

A slow grin spread over Sherlock’s face. “You want to negotiate?”

“Can you help me?”

“I’ll contact my brother tomorrow. He’s... well connected. We should be able to make a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Perfect.” John slid off the bed and approached him.

“But there’s one thing we’ll need to settle tonight, John.”

“Hm?”

Hunger sparked in his exquisite green eyes. “Last time you asked for the chance to show me what you can do.”

John went dizzy with arousal. “ _Fuck, yes_.” He held out his hand. “Up on the bed, bright eyes.”

Sherlock took his hand and let John guide him onto the bed. 

“On your knees.” John followed him up and knelt in front of him, insinuating his knees between Sherlock’s. 

“Huh.” 

John raised an eyebrow at the self-satisfied noise from Sherlock. “What’s that, then?”

“Nothing.”

John stared him down. 

“It’s just, I see what you’re doing. You’re putting me in the position I finished in last time and adding yourself.”

John stayed silent. 

“It’s good. Continue.”

John chuckled. 

Sherlock’s brow furrowed prettily. “What?”

“This will be better for both of us if you don’t critique or predict what I’m doing. I think you’ll enjoy it more if you just, you know,  _enjoy it_.”

“This is what I do, John. I can’t simply turn it off.”

“I think it’d be worth your while to try.”

He looked thoughtful. “Point taken.”

“That being said, being that I’m not a mind reader -”

“Nor am I!” he interjected hotly. 

John put his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t say you were. I was just saying I don’t mind a bit of direction.”

“Direction?”

“Guidance. In the moment. If the mood strikes you.”

“Ah. You mean like this?” He shoved his hands into his own hair and threw his head back. “Harder, John!” he cried, “Harder! Yes, yes, just like that!”

It was obviously contrived, but it went straight to John’s cock all the same. His mouth fell open as he watched. 

“Maybe a little to the left!” Sherlock broke character, dissolving into a giggle. He lowered his arms. “Is that what you mean by ‘direction’?” 

“Basically, yes, you twat.” He shook his head. “But that little display of yours reminds me. I want to ask something of you.” He took a breath. “Please don’t fake or exaggerate your pleasure with me.”

“I don’t fake it!” he objected reflexively. 

“Yes, you do.” 

Sherlock went quiet. 

“I’m not judging you, you know. I do realize it’s all part of the performance.” He took one of Sherlock’s hands between both of his. “But that’s just it. I don’t want a performance. I want this to be real between us.”

Sherlock’s eyes softened. 

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “There’s nothing in the world I’d rather see than you writhing in pleasure, and nothing I’d rather hear than you moaning my name.” 

Sherlock shivered. 

“But only if it’s real, gorgeous.”

Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around John. 

John got a close look at one of Sherlock’s wings as they embraced. He was suddenly unsure about how delicate they were and how he should handle them. 

“They’re stronger than they look,” Sherlock said, pulling back. 

“How did you -”

“You tensed up. Wing was in your face. Not a difficult leap.”

“May I?”

Sherlock gave a slight nod. 

John reached over Sherlock’s shoulder and gently touched his fingertips to the upper ridge of his wing. It was surprisingly warm. 

“Go ahead and put your whole hand on.”

John obeyed, wrapping his hand over the top of the wing. Sherlock moved it under his hand. It was strong and flexible. John gasped. 

“You’re easily impressed,” Sherlock chuckled. 

“You’re magnificent,” John breathed. “Are they sensitive?”

“If you’re asking if I want them touched in a sexual manner, then no. They’re comparable to the point of the elbow on that scale. Hardly a priority.”

“Does it bother you to lie on them?”

“No, they’re more resilient than they look. If I fold them they’re fine.”

“Good.”

“Looking to put me on my back, are you?” he asked with a wolfish grin. 

“Wait and see,” John answered, allowing his desire to rough up his voice. 

He let his hands wander from Sherlock’s wings onto his perfectly muscled chest, stroking him reverently. He leaned in and kissed him, starting softly and allowing the kiss to bloom slowly. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist and let him set the pace. John kept it slow, caressing his upper body.He then moved on to press open mouthed kisses to Sherlock’s elegant neck as he began to toy with his nipples. 

Sherlock impatiently pulled John’s t-shirt off and clutched at his hair. 

When John was ready to move to the next stage, he slid off the side of the bed to access his bedside table. Sherlock followed him down, bending to kiss him deeply. John broke away, unable to resist the opportunity to kiss Sherlock’s perfect chest, working one of his nipples with his tongue. 

Sherlock threaded his delicate, ebony-clawed fingers into John’s hair. He tipped his head back and groaned, “Oh, you are the perfect height for this.”

John stopped dead. “Don’t start,” he spat icily. 

Sherlock was suddenly very concerned. “You misunderstand. I quite enjoy your height.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Are you taking the piss?”

“Certainly not. You are aware that humans are taller now than they used to be?”

“Yes...” John conceded, still guarded. 

“I find your height nostalgic.” He stroked John’s hair. “And I’ll admit I’ve always had a thing for a man of your stature who doesn’t hesitate to -”

He paused briefly, swallowing hard. His hand tightened in John’s hair. 

“ _Take me down_.”

John began to relax. “You’re serious.”

Sherlock bent to kiss his neck. “Deadly serious,” he rumbled. 

John reclaimed Sherlock’s mouth. If this gorgeous creature wanted to be taken down, John was more than happy to oblige. After a few minutes, John broke away to retrieve his ropes. “Up on the bed again, lovely.”

Sherlock put his hand on the complex knot at the front of his leather trousers. “You’d better let me undo this first.”

“Oh, no. I’m looking forward to doing that myself.”

“It’s quite complicated.”

He leaned into Sherlock’s space. “I’m undoing it. And I’m undoing it  _with my teeth_.”

John was gratified to see a shudder pass through Sherlock’s body. 

“Now, back against the headboard.Use a pillow; make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be there a while.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”

“Until I want you to move.”He gestured toward the headboard. “Go on.”

Sherlock regarded him slightly suspiciously, but made his way into position. 

John bound Sherlock’s wrists to the headboard with sturdy, simple knots that he could release with one pull should the need arise. He’d save his skill at more complicated work for another time. No need to reveal his hand so soon. 

He climbed onto Sherlock, carefully slotting his knees between Sherlock’s hips and his folded wings and settling against his hard cock. Sherlock hissed with pleasure and let his head fall back against the headboard. 

John took a moment to appreciate the view as he caressed Sherlock’s upper body, unable to resist rocking his hips subtly against that lovely cock.

Sherlock’s bare arms were lightly stretched and bound on either side. His perfectly sculpted chest rose and fell rapidly as he breathed heavily with arousal. His sublimely beautiful face was transformed with pleasure. His exquisite  green eyes were glowing with it, even as they fell half closed against it. His whole body was lit from within with his moonlight radiance. 

John was utterly enchanted. 

He gently pushed the thick waves of Sherlock’s hair back from his face and bent to capture his mouth. He allowed all of his wonder and adoration to pour into the kiss, holding nothing back. He felt Sherlock take a shuddering breath beneath him, opening to receive all of John’s love. 

John lost all sense of time. He sat in Sherlock’s lap and kissed his love into him, stroking his arms and chest until they were both trembling with the need for more. 

John kissed his way down the length of Sherlock’s exquisitely beautiful neck, collarbone, and chest. He stopped to pay attention to each nipple along the way. 

Sherlock’s elegant, ebony-tipped hands grasped desperately at the air, held in place by John’s sturdy ropes around his wrists. 

John continued on, scooting farther and farther back. He kissed Sherlock’s stomach as the demon panted in anticipation. Finally he reached his destination, directly over the sizable bulge in those leather trousers. 

He could feel the heat of Sherlock’s cock right through the leather. He clutched at his hips and nuzzled his face right against the hard ridge of him. 

Sherlock’s legs contracted around John’s body. He muttered a curse as his head knocked against the headboard. 

John grinned into the leather. He pulled back so he could study the complicated knot at the top of the lacing between him and that lovely cock. 

Sherlock was looking at him with doubt. He seemed to be preparing for John to fail and cause an embarrassing and annoying delay. John held his gaze for a moment, angled his head confidently, and turned his focus to the knot. 

He gently kneaded at Sherlock’s hips as he solved the puzzle. Three pulls, and he could make it fall. He was almost certainly failing to keep the smug smile off his face as he leaned in. 

_One_. He looked up in time to see Sherlock’s mouth drop open in surprise as the first loop dropped from between John’s teeth. He was definitely on the right track, then. He took the second loop between his teeth and pulled.

_Two_. Sherlock’s breathing was audibly picking up. John looked up at him, savouring the tension. 

Sherlock squirmed impatiently. “ _John,”_ he pleaded. 

John leaned in, rubbing up against Sherlock’s cock again and inspiring another curse. He took the end of the lace between his teeth and looked up. 

Sherlock was overcome with desire. “ _Please_.”

_Three_. John pulled, and the knot fell. Sherlock tipped his head back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for breath. 

John brought his hands in to loosen the lacing. Sherlock would surely rip his head off if he made him wait the extended period of time it would take to do that with his teeth. If he was honest, John didn’t have that much patience either. 

He stayed low, memorising the way Sherlock’s body looked from his vantage point, with his arms extended and his chest expanding and contracting with his heavy breaths. Right in front of him was the prominent bulge in those ridiculous leather trousers. 

He slid his hands around Sherlock’s waist and underneath the small of his back, searching for the button at the back of his trousers. Even as overwhelmed as Sherlock was, he managed to read John’s intention. He braced his feet against the bed and lifted his hips to assist. 

His tail took the opportunity to move more freely, curling and swishing. 

John managed the button and took the opportunity to grab a double handful of that incredible arse. He then put a hand on Sherlock’s lower abdomen and pushed him back down. 

That earned him an annoyed noise from Sherlock, who’d clearly been expecting to ditch the trousers completely. John placated him with a firm grope through the leather. 

He retrieved the bottle of flavoured lube he’d stashed at the end of the bed when collecting his ropes and put a modest amount on one hand. 

Then, at last, he plunged that hand down the front of Sherlock’s open trousers, wrapping it around his hot, hard cock. 

Sherlock arched his body as he cried out in ecstasy. The tip of his cock was already wet with precome. John began to stroke and squeeze him as much as he could within the restriction of his trousers. 

He pushed forward, insinuating himself between Sherlock’s legs and lifting his hips into his lap. 

Sherlock went into position readily, wrapping his long legs around John’s waist. His tail dipped between John’s spread knees. His upper body was on display, stretched between his bound wrists and his hips in John’s lap. John made sure his shoulders still rested on the pillow, keeping his wrists from bearing too much of his body weight. 

John took full advantage of his position. He started by running his free hand over Sherlock’s entire chest. Soon he moved on to his strong back, suspended a few centimetres over the bed.

He slid his hand down the back of Sherlock’s trousers, moaning in appreciation as he finally felt the bare flesh of that supernaturally perfect arse for the first time. 

All the while, he was stroking Sherlock’s cock as best he could within the confines of the leather. 

Sherlock’s eyes had closed. He had turned his head to the side and surrendered to sensation. His pale skin was glowing with pleasure, and his wings were giving off starlight. 

John bent to kiss his exquisite body everywhere he could reach. 

His free hand continued its work, stroking Sherlock all over before returning to his glorious arse. 

John decided he’d had enough of those trousers. He let go of Sherlock, who made an indignant noise and raised his head. 

He settled Sherlock on the bed and got up. After wiping his hand perfunctorily, he started tugging Sherlock’s trousers off. 

“Finally,” Sherlock muttered. 

John dropped the leather trousers onto the chair. 

“Lose those bloody pants while you’re up,” Sherlock commanded. 

“Not yet.”

“You are infuriating!” 

“Just let me do this my way, will you?” John said, kneeling on the bed between Sherlock’s legs and kissing the inside of his knee. 

“I will if you’ll get on with it!”

“No,” John replied, smiling against Sherlock’s warm skin. “You’re tied to my bed. We go at my pace.”

“Do not forget that you are only holding me because I am allowing it, John.” His tone had gone low and dangerous. 

“Bold words, Sherlock, but I know how to tie a knot.”

The ropes around Sherlock’s wrists sizzled and fell in glowing, smouldering pieces onto the sheets. 

“Oi!” John scrambled to tamp the fires out. He managed to keep the bed from going up in flames, but his sheets were scorched and had several small holes burnt through them. 

Sherlock was looking up at him with a deadly serious expression. “Only because I am allowing it, John.”

John held both hands up in a gesture of conciliation. “All right. You’ve made your point.” He gestured at the ruined sheets. “But do you think you could take a break from destroying everything I own?”

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “Please. I’ve done you a favour. What are these, anyway, sackcloth?” He shifted his shoulders against the pillow. 

John’s anger surged. “They’re what an invalided soldier can afford, Sherlock, and they’re the only ones I’ve got.” He stalked over to the splintered remains of his wardrobe and yanked out his silk tie. 

“Serves you right for mouthing off.”

John scoffed. “ _You_ think  _I’m_ mouthing off?” He grabbed Sherlock’s hand and pulled him to his feet. He wrapped the tie around Sherlock’s wrist. “Try not to ruin this, all right?It’s the only decent tie I have.”

Sherlock tilted his head to look at the tie. “Mm. One of the few items of passable quality in this place.”

John turned Sherlock’s wrist behind his back and bound it to his other wrist. He took a moment to admire his work. It was a pretty picture, black silk binding Sherlock’s crossed alabaster limbs, framed by his dark wings, just above his spectacular, otherworldly arse. 

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John. 

John gave the tie a final tug. “Of course, I won’t even be able to look it without getting hard after this.”

The smile that broke over Sherlock’s face was the filthiest one John had ever seen. 

Sherlock tested the bind himself. “Well tied.”

“Thank you.”He stepped around Sherlock to face him again. He couldn’t resist adding, “The rest of my ropes are under the bed.”

A quick intake of breath from Sherlock as he turned his head quickly to stare at the bed. 

“You got X-ray vision?”

“No,” Sherlock muttered, still quite distracted by John’s revelation. 

“Then you’ll see them when I show them to you.”He lifted his hand to Sherlock’s jaw and turned his head forward again. “Eyes on me.”

John pulled the blanket from his bed and began folding it. “I trust you don’t have a bad knee or something I should know about?” He dropped the blanket in front of Sherlock. 

“I’m not a frail human. I don’t have a bad anything.”

“Rude.” John stared him down for a moment. He then plunged his hands into Sherlock’s thick hair and yanked him toward the floor, knocking an ankle against the back of one of Sherlock’s knees for good measure. 

Sherlock let out a startled cry and dropped heavily to his knees. He shuddered visibly. His breathing picked up, becoming heavy enough that his wings moved in tandem with his chest. His cock was harder than ever. 

The sight of Sherlock in that state made John lightheaded. He attempted to maintain focus by taking the semi-rare opportunity to gaze at the beautiful ebony and scarlet horns on top of Sherlock’s head. He relaxed his grip in his thick hair, allowing his hands to pass through it reverently and push it back from his face. 

When Sherlock lifted his head and looked up into John’s eyes, it took everything John had to stay on his feet and not fall to the floor in front of him. 

Sherlock’s eyes were wide and glowing brightly with desire. His generous mouth had fallen open slightly as his breathing deepened. 

John couldn’t help wondering aloud at the obvious signs. “You like this.”

Despite his heightened state of arousal, he gave his eyes a half-hearted roll. “Well spotted.”

“Rude. Again.” He tightened his hands in the dark, silky hair. “I should shut you up.”

A shiver from Sherlock. His eyes burned into John’s. “Then do it already,” he urged, his voice rough with want. 

John’s knees nearly gave out. He renewed his grip on Sherlock’s hair, hoping it appeared to be a display of control rather than the necessity it really was. “When I’m good and ready.”

Sherlock dropped his focus to John’s groin, staring intently at the obscene bulge in his underpants. “You look ready to m-”

John had passed his thumb over Sherlock’s full lower lip and plunged it into his mouth, silencing him. He leaned down, raising Sherlock’s chin to re-establish eye contact. “ _I_ decide when I’m ready.”

Sherlock moaned deeply and stroked John’s thumb with his tongue.His eyes fell closed, and the wave of arousal that passed over John was so strong that he had to clamp his other hand onto Sherlock’s shoulder to keep from falling to the floor. 

He pulled his strength together to speak. “Limits?” he managed, pulling his thumb back to allow Sherlock to answer. 

The demon opened his luminous eyes and cocked his head. “You’ve had a taste of what I can do. Give me everything you’ve got, John,” he urged. “And don’t forget.”

John was trying to keep himself on his feet as another wave of intense arousal crashed over him. “F-forget what?”

Sherlock’s eyes sparked with mischief. “How long I can hold my breath.”

“Oh, fuck!” John tightened his grip on Sherlock’s shoulder. 

Sherlock let out a deep, filthy chuckle. 

John could wait no longer. It was time to take control. He squared his shoulders and straightened his posture. “Undress me,” he commanded. 

Sherlock obeyed immediately, taking hold of the waistband of John’s underwear with his teeth. 

It was a challenge to get the pants off over John’s massive erection, but Sherlock was up to the task. In moments, he dropped them to the floor. John kicked them away. 

He took hold of his own cock to steady it and brought it into position in front of Sherlock’s mouth. 

Sherlock wasted no time complying with the unspoken command, putting his pink tongue out and starting with an extravagant lick over the head. 

John moaned loudly and braced himself against the full body shudder he experienced. 

Sherlock took the entire head into his mouth, and John let his hand drop from his cock to give him room to work. His newly freed hand immediately found its way back into Sherlock’s hair, weaving into it at the back of his head. 

Sherlock was now locked in position, bound at the wrists and held tightly by John’s hands in his hair and on his shoulder. 

John was gone. He allowed himself to let go and give Sherlock exactly what he’d asked for: everything. Sherlock’s skill was absolutely transcendent. He held John in a state of ecstasy for what seemed like ages. 

John periodically pulled back to encourage Sherlock to breathe, not quite able to allow himself to let go of the habit. He watched Sherlock’s body language for any sign of distress, but he saw only arousal. 

Eventually, John knew he needed to move on to the next stage if he was going to be able to continue. He didn’t want to fully exhaust himself. So, extremely reluctantly, he pulled his cock all the way back out of Sherlock’s incredible mouth. 

He dropped to his knees in front of him. Sherlock looked down at him, searching for guidance. John drew him into a kiss. 

Sherlock went completely pliant in John’s grasp, and John maintained his control over the moment. He slowly shifted gears, calming them both. 

He traced his way down Sherlock’s strong, beautifully shaped arms to the silk tie binding his wrists, resting in the curve at the small of his back.

Sherlock arched his body against John’s. 

John pulled the end of the tie, releasing Sherlock’s bond. The tie spiraled away and dropped. 

Sherlock took a sharp breath and looked at John with sudden concern. 

“It’s okay,” John soothed immediately. “I want to take this in a different direction.”

There was still a flicker of uncertainty in Sherlock’s eyes. 

“You trust me?”

The uncertainty melted away. He nodded. 

“Good.”John brought both hands up into the thick waves of his hair and kissed him tenderly. “Come on.”

He stood and helped Sherlock up. 

John had long enjoyed binding a willing partner, and it was abundantly clear that Sherlock was wonderfully responsive to being bound. John could hardly wait to explore and experiment with the possibilities he saw ahead of them, but he’d released Sherlock for one simple reason. 

John was more than happy to bind Sherlock and make him feel captured. Dominated. Ravaged. How had Sherlock put it?  _Taken down_. But for what John had in mind now, for this night, there was one thing John wanted Sherlock to feel over anything else: Cherished. 

He guided Sherlock to sit on the side of the bed. “Lie back. That’s it.” 

Sherlock folded his wings tightly and laid back. John moved a pillow under his head, taking a moment to admire the way the dark waves of his hair spilled over it. John couldn’t resist kissing his sweet, beautiful mouth again (and again) before kneeling on the blanket on the floor and propping Sherlock’s thighs on his shoulders. 

John loved having a partner in this position, although he’d certainly never had one with a tail. Sherlock was less than fully coherent at the moment, and if he was honest so was John. He’d leave the conversation about what Sherlock did or didn’t want done with his tail for another time. John simply gave it a little caress. It coiled around John’s waist in a gentle embrace. 

He turned his focus onto Sherlock’s cock. Now, there was something he knew what to do with. He took hold of it, and Sherlock gasped. He started slowly, with licks and open-mouthed kisses to the head and shaft. Sherlock whimpered desperately and threw an arm over his head to clutch at the pillow. John took him in, working with suction and tongue and using his hand on his bollocks. And Sherlock was gone. He grabbed clumsily at John’s hair with his other hand and cried out wordlessly. 

Seeing this gorgeous creature taking pleasure from him, feeling him hard and wanting in his mouth was incredible. John’s own cock throbbed desperately. He slipped a hand down to work it, just enough to keep himself on the edge. 

Sherlock’s moonlight glow brightened, and his legs tensed up on John’s shoulders. His voice took on a broken quality. “ _John!_ ”

As much as he hated to stop, John needed something from Sherlock. He pulled off. Sherlock made a pitifully bereft noise. John crawled up over him. Sherlock’s eyes were clamped shut. John petted his hair.

“Sherlock, Sherlock.” He was still petting his hair. “I need you to do something for me.”

Sherlock blinked, slowly opening his glowing eyes. 

“I need you to tell me when you’re going to come. Can you do that for me, Sherlock?”

He nodded shakily. 

“You’ll tell me when you’re going to come?”

“Yes, John.” His eyes were falling closed again. 

“Good.” John stroked his hair again and kissed him firmly on the mouth before rushing back to the task at hand. 

He heaved Sherlock’s quivering legs back onto his shoulders and swallowed him down greedily. Sherlock sobbed with relief. His tail wrapped gratefully around John’s waist again.

John used every skill he had to pleasure Sherlock, while keeping himself at the edge. At last, Sherlock cried out, “John, I - I’m coming!  _Now_ , John!”

And in one of the greatest balancing acts of John’s life, he plunged down on Sherlock’s cock to stop his own breath as he squeezed his own cock just the right way to throw himself over the edge into orgasm. If he’d calculated correctly, his orgasm would feed Sherlock’s. 

His body was wracked with surges of intense pleasure as he came. He was silent, his throat stoppered by Sherlock’s cock. He willed his pleasure into Sherlock’s body, fighting to focus on Sherlock, and he was not disappointed. 

Sherlock’s entire body convulsed as he came down John’s throat. His light surged, bright moonlight from his creamy skin and starlight from his folded wings. His legs clamped involuntarily around John’s ears and his hands clutched at the sheets. He cried out loudly and incoherently until he finally collapsed against the bed, completely limp. 

John pulled off, choking only a little as he swallowed and gasped for air. He crawled up over Sherlock and was immediately swept into a crushingly tight embrace. 

Sherlock rolled to his side, adjusting to a more comfortable position for them both. He tucked his face into John’s neck, still holding him closely. He sniffled, then made a sound that, had John not known better, he would have identified as a sob. 

“Sherlock?”

“Don’t.”

Something hot and wet fell against John’s neck. 

“Are you okay?”

“I said, don’t!”

John held him close for several minutes, until Sherlock pushed back. 

He swiped at his face. “Apologies.”

“None needed. Are you all right?”

“Of course. It’s just - no one has done that for me in - in a very long time.”

John was suddenly very confused. Surely he couldn’t mean no one had sucked his cock in all this time. “Hang on -”

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically. “For fuck’s sake, John! Of course I don’t mean-”

John put up a hand. “Just hang on! In my defence, my brains were scrambled quite thoroughly a few minutes ago. I’m getting there. No one did that  _for you_. When they did that it was because you’d deduced that what they really wanted was a big hard cock in the mouth and you gave it to them.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 

“Um. Not to put too fine a point on it.”

He looked mildly amused. “You’re doing fine. Keep going.”

“You haven’t laid back and let someone pleasure you like that for -”

Neither of them finished the sentence. The words hung in the air between them:  _twenty-five hundred years._

“You haven’t given yourself over like that. I don’t take it lightly, Sherlock.”

“And no one has deliberately fed their pleasure into mine like that.” He took a steadying breath. “Not since Victor.”

“You could tell it was intentional?”

“Of course I could.”

John adjusted his position and the pillows so he was up against the headboard, keeping his arms open to allow Sherlock to move with him. 

Sherlock rested his pretty head on John’s chest and draped his long, graceful limbs over John’s body. John’s arms were still up, floating awkwardly over him. Sherlock sighed contentedly and settled in with a little wriggle. 

John was struck once again by how incredible it was that this remarkably stunning creature was sharing his bed. He brought his arms down, settling one around Sherlock’s arm and shoulder and allowing the other to cradle his head. 

He stroked Sherlock’s hair and gazed down at his lovely horns, taking in the detailed scarlet patterns decorating them. 

“I can feel you doing that,” Sherlock rumbled. 

“What am I doing?”

“You’re staring at my horns.”

“Can you blame me? They’re so beautiful.” 

His only response was a slight “Hmm,” as he succumbed to John’s soothing strokes through his hair. 

“May I touch them?” John asked. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

A non-committal “Hmm.”Then, “You find me in an exceptionally relaxed and amenable mood. I’d say this is your opportunity.”

John started with just his index finger, tracing the curve of one curled horn. It was almost imperceptibly ridged. He traced the other, testing the sharpness at the point. John was relieved to find it wasn’t terribly sharp. Sherlock could definitely do some damage with these, but it seemed that force and intent would be required. He wasn’t likely to lacerate John by accident. 

John returned to the first horn and gently wrapped his hand around it, passing his thumb over the intricate designs. A movement against his leg distracted him. He looked down as Sherlock’s tail encircled his ankle in a little embrace. 

John bit his lip against the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He wondered if Sherlock even realized his tail had taken hold of him. 

Sherlock gave a sight turn of his head, pulling at John’s grip on his horn and hinting that it was time to let go. John reluctantly complied. 

“Did they pass inspection?” Sherlock teased. 

“They’re exquisite,” he breathed. “But then, every part of you is exquisite.”

“Really.” He stuck one of his ebony-clawed feet in the air. “How about the third toe on my left foot?”

“Oh,  _especially_ the third toe on your left foot,” John sighed dreamily. “I was up all night last night writing sonnets about it.”

Sherlock dropped his leg and playfully swatted John’s arm. “Stop it!”

“Dare I ask?”

“Hmm?”

“How did I do?”

“You were there. What do you think?”

“I daresay it was a decent showing for a puny human.”

He chuckled. “It was. Quite a bit more than decent, in fact. I’m impressed. You can’t have been doing this more than what, twenty-one years?”

John did a bit of quick mental maths. “That’s spot-on, actually.”

“You have a natural ability.”

“I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two.”

“You have no idea.”

They went quiet for several minutes. John was drifting toward sleep when Sherlock broke the silence. 

“I was just thinking.”

“Were you, now?”

“If you’re negotiating, it’s best to aim high, is it not?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“How would you like your own pair of horns?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I actually have to say this, but I swear by all that is holy (or unholy as the case may be) that this work was absolutely NOT inspired by any current news events. I have been working on it for many months, and the original publication date of the first two chapters predates any bizarre stories currently circulating. Thank you! ❤️

—Five Years Later—

They walked across the club, side by side. Their quarry was seated at the bar, an empty seat on either side. They couldn’t have asked for a more perfect moment to strike.

They were almost on top of him before they separated, each taking a seat next to their target.

The human immediately sat up straighter. He looked first at Sherlock, eyes widening as he took in his arresting beauty. He turned to look at John.

John was gratified to see the spark of attraction in his eyes as they swept over him. It always did his ego good to be able to hold his own next to Sherlock, with those sharp cheekbones and those mysterious eyes and those miles-long legs.

John smiled and put out his hand. “All right, mate? I’m John.”

The man shook John’s hand. “Greg.”

“Cold enough for you out there?”

Greg chuckled politely. “Yeah, just about.”

The noise that came from Sherlock was loud and extravagantly exasperated.

“Sherlock! You will not actually die of boredom. I have to start slowly. We’ve talked about this!”

“Get on with it, then!”

“I will, when you stop interrupting!”

Greg was looking back and forth between them like he was at a tennis match. He interjected, “You two are a couple, then, and you’re looking for a third.”

“Just so.” Sherlock looked at John in triumph. “See? You only have to tell him what we want!”

John sighed heavily.

“What do you have in mind?” Greg asked.

“We’re offering you the greatest sexual experience of your life,” Sherlock said plainly.

Greg snorted. “At least you’re confident. You two are really that good?”

“We are, actually,” John added.

“Well, if you’re the best in the world, surely you can have anyone you want,” Greg said. “Why me?” He gestured vaguely toward the dance floor. “Why not one of those hot young twinks over there?”

Sherlock scoffed. “As if one of them could hold my attention longer than five seconds.”

“We prefer someone more interesting,” John said, allowing his eyes to roam over Greg’s body.

“And don’t pretend you don’t know you’re a silver fox,” Sherlock added, poking at Greg’s shoulder with one graceful finger.

“So, what makes you think you’re the best I’ll ever have?” Greg challenged. “You take lessons or something?”

“He’s a genius,” John said, pointing at Sherlock. “He’s like a mind reader. Knows what you want him to do even before _you_ know.”

“How many times - I’m not a mind reader!” Sherlock whined.

John leaned across Greg to address Sherlock, using it as a pretext to deliberately invade Greg’s space. “I said _like_ a mind reader. It’s the fastest way to explain it, Mr. ‘Get on with it!’” He turned to Greg, not quite retreating to his own space. “And he has six thousand years’ experience.”

Disappointed horror flashed across Greg’s face. He groaned. “Oh, bloody hell. This is the part where you tell me he’s a vampire, isn’t it?” He dropped his head heavily onto the bar and began talking to himself. “It’s always the hot ones. I should have known. Two hot guys, double the ridiculousness.”

Sherlock threw his hands in the air. “Why is it always vampire?”

“Just let me talk to him. You know this is the hardest part.” John put his hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Greg, we’re not vampires.”

Greg was still talking to himself. “I just wanted to have a pint. Maybe find someone nice to play with my dick. Was that too much to ask?”

John stifled a laugh. “Greg, sit up and look at me.”

Greg groaned again and sat up reluctantly.

“We’re not vampires. We’re incubi.”

“Is that meant to be better?” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Full marks for creativity, I suppose. I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I know you don’t believe me. I don’t blame you; I wouldn’t either. We can prove it easily enough, but we don’t want to do it in a crowded club.” John pointed at Sherlock. “Just look at him, Greg. Even if we’ve made it up, wouldn’t it be worth playing along to have a go at him?”

Greg’s gaze was caught in the open collar of Sherlock’s ridiculously tight shirt. He was definitely a goner.

John leaned dangerously close to Greg’s ear, his hand still on his shoulder. He deliberately lowered and roughened his voice. “You think he’s hot now? You should see him in his true form. Take us home and we’ll show you. And he honestly _is_ the best you’ll ever have. I’ve only got twenty-six years’ experience myself, but lucky for you I’m a fast learner.”

Greg’s breathing had quickened. A flush was starting at the back of his neck. They were getting to him. But suddenly, he shut down. “Sorry, fellas, it’s all a bit much for me. I think I’ll call it a night.” He moved to get off the barstool.

Sherlock clamped a hand onto his other shoulder to keep him in place. “At least let him finish explaining, Lestrade.”

The colour drained from Greg’s face. He stared at Sherlock, wild-eyed. “I didn’t tell you my surname.”

“Greg, listen,” John said. “I’m going to lay it all out and you can take our offer or walk away. Your choice. We chose you a week and a half ago, and we’ve been watching you since to ensure we both find you suitable. Sherlock has a fondness for crime scenes and detective work. I frequently accompany him on his excursions because he finds my medical knowledge helpful. You caught our attention on one of those excursions.”

Sherlock spoke up. “It was John who first noticed how hot you are.”

“How do you get access to crime scenes?” Greg asked. “I haven’t seen you at any.”

“We are only seen if we wish to be,” Sherlock said. He leaned closer to Greg. “I know you’re stuck on the Downing case. Tell me, does the brother have a green ladder?”

Greg gaped at him, utterly bewildered.

John reclaimed Greg’s attention by stroking his hand down from his shoulder to hold his arm just above the elbow. The effect on Greg was immediate. He turned to meet John’s eyes, his body swaying almost imperceptibly toward him.

As John held Greg’s gaze, he let a little bit of his light show in his eyes. It was just enough to make it clear to Greg that John wasn’t human without disturbing the rest of the club. And John was fully aware that his light set fire to the blue colours in his dark eyes. He’d been told his eyes were particularly entrancing, and he used them to his advantage.

Greg was pinned, unwilling or unable to look away. His lovely brown eyes were wide. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

John released him, concealing his light and breaking the unwavering eye contact.

“Incubi feed on human energy. We won’t drain or harm you, we merely pick up what you’re giving off. The two of us are unique in three ways. First, Sherlock here was innovative enough to discover that sexual pleasure is the most potent and satisfying of human energies to absorb. That’s obviously good news for you.”

He winked at Greg and watched with satisfaction as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Second, we are the only bonded pair. I’m extraordinarily young for an incubus, so I need a human at least once a fortnight. We keep each other busy the rest of the time.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Greg interjected weakly.

John grinned. “Third, we are the only incubi to approach the human we’ve chosen in public rather than manifesting in their bedroom uninvited. This is my innovation, and Sherlock is still skeptical, but I’d imagine you appreciate a conversation and a choice rather than an ambush.”

Greg nodded. “I do appreciate that, actually.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

John ignored him and leaned closer to Greg, letting his hunger rough up his voice. “Think about it, Greg. The more sexual pleasure we give you, the more energy we receive. That means it’s in _our_ interest to give you the greatest sexual experience of your life.” He pushed his hand into Greg’s hair. “Take us home, Greg.”

He leaned all the way in, but stopped just short of contact. He kept Greg suspended for a delicious moment before giving a teasingly light brush of his lips against Greg’s. He flexed his fingers in his hair, clutching at it with barely-restrained lust. “Take us home,” he repeated quietly, and kissed him. He let the kiss bloom slowly, taking the time to let Greg open for him.

Greg responded beautifully to John, melting at his touch. Sherlock was off his barstool and had both hands on Greg’s shoulders. He stroked down his back and then ran his hands up onto Greg’s chest, embracing him firmly from behind. Greg gasped against John’s mouth.

Sherlock bent to kiss Greg’s neck. The thick, dark waves of his hair cascaded over Greg’s shoulder. “Take us home,” he pleaded breathlessly, his deep baritone smouldering with desire.

John pulled back. Greg was already wrecked. If Sherlock hadn’t been holding him, he might’ve fallen to the floor.

John looked to Sherlock, but those green eyes were locked on someone else with a familiar intensity. John didn’t bother to look. _Oh, my love_ , he thought, _you’ve found the next one already._

He watched in awe as Sherlock held eye contact with someone behind the bar. John pulled back a bit more to give him room to work. Sherlock dragged one of those big graceful hands back over Greg’s body and up into his silver hair, never breaking eye contact with his new quarry.

Greg gasped for air, his dark eyes wide but unfocused. Sherlock used his grip to turn Greg’s head and made an outrageous display of kissing him, leading with his tongue and keeping his eyes open a bit longer than expected. When he did close them, he softened his entire body in a show of bliss, his expression enraptured.

John smiled to himself when he heard the huge crash of breaking glass behind him. The poor bastard must’ve been holding a nearly-full bottle. Greg didn’t seem to even register the sound, lost as he was in Sherlock’s kiss.

 _The best in the world,_ John thought to himself. _That was two birds with one stone_. He made a subtle adjustment to accommodate his rapidly hardening cock. _All right, it was three_.

He moved in, claiming Sherlock by plunging a hand into his thick hair. Sherlock came to him without hesitation, kissing him deeply. Greg’s noise of agonized protest transformed to one of desperate arousal as he watched John and Sherlock devour each other, practically on top of him.

John broke away from Sherlock and put a hand on Greg’s cheek, locking eyes with him. Greg was visibly quivering.

“Take us home, Greg,” John commanded.

Greg slid one of his hands up onto his own chest and grasped the pale, elegant hand that still rested there, looking helplessly into John’s eyes.

“ _Yes_.”

Sherlock didn’t need to be told twice. He hustled Greg off the barstool, propping him up when his knees gave out.

John hopped down and pulled out his wallet. He was quite pleased to have completed the public portion of the encounter with Greg, as he hated cloaking his true form. He was looking forward to stretching his large black wings, and, if he was honest, to showing off his exquisitely filigreed ebony and gold horns.

As he dropped enough notes on the bar to cover Greg’s bill and a generous tip, he decided to finally take a look at Sherlock’s other victim.

He scanned behind the bar to see which member of the staff looked like they’d been hit by a lorry. There he was, standing uselessly in a puddle of liquor and broken glass. John made eye contact and watched in satisfaction as the man’s chest rose dramatically with a deep gasp.

The man was exactly John’s type. _Oh, Sherlock_ , he thought as his heart swelled, _you’re so good to me._

He gave the poleaxed man a wink and turned to follow Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for another addition to the series next week.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! ❤️


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